Loving Me, Trusting You

Loving Me, Trusting You - C. M. Stunich



this book is dedicated to the following people, in no particular order, simply for being awesome:

Susan Lynn, Lola Stark, The Triple M Book Club, Amanda Heath, Sali Benbow-Powers, Melissa Stewart-Allum, Rhea French, Brandy Little, Lance MacCarty, Amanda Carroll and the numerous other amazing people who have and continue to believe in and support my work.

but most of all, this book is dedicated to those who have or will be told that they can't or shouldn't do something because of their gender: I believe in you.



“What in the holy hell is wrong with that woman?” Austin asks, shading his eyes against the harsh burn of the sun. My helmet's still on, and I'm peering out the visor at the remnants of Mireya Sawyer's soul. They're scattered across the yellow desert for all of Triple M to see, laid bare and sizzling hot. Even if I didn't know her as well as I do, I could see that she's bleeding inside, hurtin' so hard she can't breathe. My first instinct is to cross the dry ground that separates us and take her into my arms, whisper into her hair and tell her that everything's going to be okay, that I'll take care of her forever.

She'd probably kick me in the f*cking nuts.

A smile teases the edge of my lips as I rub at the broken heart tattoo on my shoulder. Austin isn't happy about the sudden stop, but I don't mind. I'd do anything for Mireya Sawyer. Even wait around for seven plus friggin' years while she pined for my best friend.

“Should I go talk to her?” Amy Cross asks, sneaking up between Austin and me, and curling her delicate fingers around his arm. Brunette hair whips around her face, hiding the expression of concern that's there, genuine and sympathetic. She's a miracle that, girl. The one person on this earth that I think is capable of handling Austin. She's calm, collected, and she don't hold no f*cking grudge against Mireya. I feel good knowing she's Austin's soul mate. I just hope he's aware of how lucky he is.

“Nah,” I say, watching through the visor, waiting with my breath caught in my chest for that day that might never come, for the day that Mireya Sawyer looks me in the eyes and tells me she loves me right back. I've told her before. Just once. It didn't go over so well. I plan on doing it again, but I don't know when. If I have to, I'll wait another seven years. I'd rather not, thank you very much, but I will. I'd wait forever if I had to.

I glance over at Beck who's busy checking out Amy's ass. When Austin sees, he growls low in his throat and our friend backs off, running his hand through his red hair and chuckling. Dumb as a Goddamn doornail, but ten times tougher. I really believe that Beck could take out twenty men by himself. Wouldn't surprise me a bit.

“She's just … dealing with some old shit,” I say as Austin sighs and glances back at the group behind us. Triple M. Our family. Our friends. The people we'd do anything for, that would do anything for us. It's a confusing time right now, but they're all still here and they're not asking questions. I think it's because we all knew deep down that Kent Diamond was a Goddamn lunatic. Well, okay, for me it wasn't even deep down, but thing is, he did a lot of good for us all, rescued us when nobody else was there, gave us a home and a family. He might've been an *, and a backstabber, but he was still the one that gathered us all together, whatever his reasons.

But now he's dead.

Austin didn't bother to check before we left, but I did. I felt for a pulse, and I got nothin'. I don't think Sparks cared either way. All that mattered to him was Amy, and that was that. He took Kent out without a second thought. Guess love will make you do shit like that without thinking. It's a violently gentle emotion, ain't it? A contradiction in and of itself. I know it's been screwing with me forever. Especially when I saw that stupid bitch, Tray Walker.

Fuck. I wanted to kill that son of a bitch with my bare hands, feel the life drain out of him while I gazed into his eyes and showed him exactly how I felt about what he did to Mireya. Stupid motherf*cker. But it wasn't my decision. It was hers. Beck gave her the knife, and we walked out. She had blood on her hands when she came out, but not a lot. I don't know what happened, and she doesn't want to talk about it with anyone. Not a single soul.

“We can't sit on the side of the highway all day,” Austin warns, but I'm not sure who he's talking to exactly. He's in charge now, so he better get used to it.

“Okay, Pres,” I say, lifting up my visor and feeling the burn of the sun on my skin. “So what do you want to do about it?” Austin gives me a look, blowing out a rush of air like he isn't quite sure he's ready for all this. I don't tell him, but to me and Beck, he's always been in charge. He's the only one we've ever really listened to.

“Give her five minutes,” Amy says, so quiet that I almost don't catch her words. Austin does though. And he hangs all over them like a kid on the monkey bars. Jesus. This boy is so head over heels, it's hard to look at him. I hope he realizes it. “I think she needs this. If you rush her, she'll hang onto the pain. Let her go for a minute, please?” Amy asks, pressing a kiss to the leather sleeve of Austin's jacket. His arm curls around her waist protectively, and his eyes soften a bit. Jesus.

I turn away. I can't look at that. Not right now. I'm jealous, and I don't want to be. I just want to be happy. I just want to be with Mireya Sawyer.